Odd Love
by Imagination-DreamMix
Summary: It started innocently. Well.. It never really was so innocent was it? In which Matthew has always loved Arthur.


**AN: **I'm not sure where I was going with this and I kind of gave up half way through if you can't tell so I'm sorry for that. Anyway enjoy!

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Matthew is a good boy.

He's always kind, never rude, he knows his manners and follows orders. He loves his brother, Alfred, very much and, even if Arthur doesn't approve he loves Francis just as much. However, Matthew loves Arthur more than anyone.

"I'll marry you one day!" He chirped with a mouth full of biscuits. It was Spring. There are birds chirping and he still has pollen stuck in his hair, the white tufts of dandelions caught in his tresses and making him look like he belongs in the field. "When I get older I'll ask you to marry me and we'll have a big wedding! You'll marry me right daddy? Not anyone else— me!"

Arthur chuckles, kneeling down to the boys level to wipe the crumbs from his cheeks. "Mind your manners Matthew." He chided the blond gently. He's wearing a smile so Matthew knows he isn't actually angry. "I love you Arthur." The colony sighed, love struck in every way. Oh yes that's love in his eyes but Arthur thinks it cute. An infatuation. He doesn't hear the way his name falls from the boys lips with reverence and adoration. He doesn't see the way the boy shifts on his toes, leaning closer in the hopes of a kiss. Not a chaste, innocent kiss like he would get before bed but a real one, a passionate one. One that would quell the burning pyre in the pit of his stomach unlike those simple fleeting pecks. He's young but he understands this feeling, knows that it's the sort of thing that brings men to their knees and destroys people. Arthur knows this feeling too but he doesn't know Matthew feels it for him.

He doesn't actually know.

"And I love you Matthew." He replies, tapping his nose playfully. "Off you go. Wash up for supper and fetch your brother. Ah, and keep the biscuit between us lad."

Matthew nods and scampers off, deflated internally yet wearing a bright smile. He loves Arthur and he means it. He'll marry him one day. He'll confess his love and ask the Empire's hand in marriage which he'll accept. At least this is how it plays in his head when he fantasizes. Arthur thinks it's all well and good, a definite improvement to the sour little boy who would barely speak to him let alone look at him with such adoration when he first came.

When Matthew's older he becomes more rebellious. He knows what it is to be disciplined and he still loves Arthur— loves him more in fact. He's taller, thin and filling out. He's lithe yet muscular and despite himself Arthur is starting to notice. He notices the boy's taller now, almost reaching his chin and there's no doubt that he'll be bigger than him one day. Matthew still has those boyish delicate features; his small jaw, his lithe frame, his voice is on the cusp of a nations version of puberty and even if he's still so young and not yet graced with wisdom or experience he's graceful.

He likes to read– unlike his brother– and has the cutest habit of crossing and uncrossing his ankles while worrying at his too red lower lip when laying on the carpeted floor with a book. He looks as if he's warm, cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded at his lilac orbs fly across the page quickly. If he hadn't turned the page Arthur would swear he was faking.

"Do you need something daddy?" The blond asks suddenly, tilting his head to acknowledge the empire who was caught in his admiring daze. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "No… No, not at all. It's not often you read in the den is all." He replies. He needs to stop staring because more often than not Matthew notices and it's quite embarrassing.

Matthew smiles, a secretive little thing, and blows some hair from his face. "I got lonely," he admits, watching Arthur sit in the arm chair. It's quite again for a long while and Arthur is back to his embroidering but Matthew… Matthew hasn't looked away. He picks up his book and saunters over, standing before the Brit with a thoughtful look, as if contemplating something. Arthur doesn't pay him any mind but it isn't long before he slips into his lap and effectively startled the elder male.

"Matthew… what are you doing?"

"Sitting." He deadpans, turning his gaze to the other. His eyes are far beyond his few years. They always have been.

"Weren't you just sitting over there?" He asks, motioning to the rug where Matthew had been sprawled. The Canadian doesn't turn to look. "I want to be with you." He murmurs, leaning in close to press his nose to his guardian's neck and rest his head against his shoulder. There's no mistaking how fast Arthur's heart his beating but Matthew isn't paying attention. In fact he's fast asleep within the next few minutes.

Matthew only wants to be close. He wants to be wrapped in Arthur, swathed in his scent and essence and Arthur allows him so long as he doesn't do or say anything. Nothing but a quiet "I love you Arthur" which is returned with a soft sigh as he reaches to run his fingers through the boys hair idly.

"I love you too Matthew."

Matthew gets just that much older and more bold. He's rebellious and it irks Arthur that he's acting so much like his brother.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about my people." Matthew says it casually. Like he's asking about the weather or telling the time. Arthur scowls. "Later lad. I'm busy at the moment."

The Canadian colony rolls his heliotrope eyes and slams his hands against the table. It's enough to make Arthur raise a brow and look at him finally. Matthew isn't rude or demanding and the younger male is wearing the faintest hint of a smile so he thinks he must have been dreaming for a moment.

"Arthur my people are important too." He insists. His accent is clearly that of a British colony and it's probably odd that Arthur is admiring how thick it gets in his outburst. It's certainly better than what it used to be; with that French lacing. It's still there he knows and when Matthew is upset, absolutely seething, it shows. It almost never gets to that point though. "I would appreciate it if you stopped ignoring me for this.. this bloody shite you keep putting _them_ off for."

The empire stands, his hand quick when he grabs Matthew's hand and slaps it swiftly. Even Matthew is taken aback by this and he whimpers softly, holding his hand to his chest protectively. It's not a big deal one might think but it's _Arthur_and to Matthew it's just as bad as having been slapped across his face. It's_worse_. He's not a child and yet…

"Go to your room." He snaps.

Matthew falters for a moment but doesn't move. "I—"

"Go to your room Matthew. Until you can approach me with your problems like a mature nation you will do as you're told and go to your room."

His breath catches when he spies how acidic Arthur's eyes and words are and storms off. Doors slam and he's in down the hall before he can catch the elder man bellow to stop slamming his doors because he doesn't own a damn thing until he can grow up.

Alfred speaks of war and Matthew hates it. He promises the American he'll consider the idea of joining him and he does. He contemplates the proposition long and hard, weighs the pros and cons. In the end he chooses the one who needs him most. Alfred is fine by himself he knows. Arthur though…

The young male shuffles into the den, frowning when he sees the Brit in the armchair with his head in his hands. When he spies the decanter on the floor beside his feet it doesn't take him long to realise what's going on.

"Arthur…" He murmurs softly, padding over to touch his shoulder. He pauses, considering his words for a moment. "Daddy, it's late… You should get some sleep."

It's quiet. Only the sound of their breathing to be heard. At least until the distraught empire lifts his head, looking wearily to the concerned boy. He holds his arms out and Matthew's shoulders drop. All this pain and devastation; does Alfred know what he's doing to their father? Their brother… His love. Matthew, though bigger now– standing an inch or so above Arthur– slips down to his knees between Arthur's legs and curls his arms around his waist.

Arthur sobs.

"I love you Arthur…" He whispers against the others chest, hair damp with tears. He doesn't mind though.

Arthur is consumed, lost in his agony but Matthew is still there. It's the only thing that keeps him anchored when Alfred breaks away.

In the end the two have each other.

Arthur is still sour about the revolution sometimes but when he is he knows just who to go to. And Matthew? Matthew has Arthur wrapped around his finger. He gets away with murder as time goes on. When anyone tries to point it out though they're met with a rather disgruntled English attitude and an amused Canadian.


End file.
